Away in a Morgue
by Elf
Summary: Angel, severly injured in a battle, wakes up to find an attractive doctor looking at him.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the _Angel_ characters, they are owned by Joss Wheadon, David Greenwalt and 20th Century Fox, so don't sue because I'm broke and have no money.   
  


**Author's Notes:** This story came to me during work last night. The strangest thing is that I work at a fast food restaurant. It's also serious for those who have read my more comical work. As always, feedback is appreciated, and you can reach me, Elf A.K.A., Jennifer, at slaybrat@aye.net or slayerbrat@yahoo.com.   
  


**_Away in a Morgue_**

**__**By: Elf**__**   
  


Angel stood on the rooftop waiting. He had received a mysterious phone call from Cordelia's earlier telling him to meet him on this rooftop. Angel was skeptic about the invitation, but he came anyway. He wondered what he was going to find.   
  


"Angelus," a rough, deep, growling, just _inhuman,_ voice called out. Angel's senses were on full alert as he spun around. He smelled death. It wasn't a smell one would forget. It was strong, rotting sweet with a sour edge to it. Like hot vomit, rotten meat, and, strangely enough, sulfur. It was what Hell had smelled like, he realized.   
  


"Yeah," Angel replied as the speaker came into view. And he froze. It was a big demon, at least twelve feet tall. It had a head like a bull, large, ebony horns poked from his head that were gore incrusted. It had huge, cloven feet, like a goat almost. Its torso was human, but grotesquely muscled and its legs were like a goat's. It had huge, leathery, black bat wings. The rest of its body was a deep, rich crimson, like fresh blood.   
  


Glowing green eyes observed Angel. The vampire straitened to his full height and tightened his grip on his sword. It spoke, "You are Angelus."   
  


"Angel, yeah," Angel replied, swallowing. This was a damned big demon that he knew nothing about.   
  


The demon smiled and said, "You are the one who's been putting a damper on everything." His tone was amused and disbelieving.   
  


It pissed Angel off.   
  


_Arrogant bastard, _Angel thought angrily as he replied, "Yeah, that's me."   
  


"Vampires, discussing creatures really," the demon mused.   
  


"Tell me about it," Angel quipped.   
  


The demon laughed and Angel wished it didn't. It was a sharp, metallic sound, like nails across a chalkboard. It said, "Yes, you and your human soul. You have a chance to live a life that many others do not, or would kill to."   
  


"I don't really think so," Angel replied, wanting to get on with the fight. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. In fact, he wasn't that sure if he could beat the demon. But he was going to try.   
  


_Shit, there is a difference between stupidity and bravery, _he found himself thinking. He asked, "What the hell do you want?"   
  


"Ah, Hell. Another excellent point. You, somehow, escaped from my home," the demon replied.   
  


Angel inwardly shivered from a chill of memory, and yes, fear. He didn't like being afraid. He glared and asked, "Are you going to try and kill me or what?"   
  


The demon laughed before he charged.   
  


****** 

Dr. Amanda Wallace was tired. Wearily, the young doctor rubbed the back of her neck as she yawned. Her shift was almost over. Five minutes actually, and since she had finished her paperwork, she had five minutes to kill. She would never leave early.   
  


Besides, there could be some sort of crisis that could use her help. That was one of the reasons that Amanda had became a doctor: she liked to help people. She rocked gently back on her Nikes and waited.   
  


The Emergency Room of the St. Joseph Hospital was almost dead. The worse case that Amanda had seen tonight had been a teenage boy with a bad case of "road rash". He had crashed while skateboarding, needed a few stitches and had a broken arm. Luck would have it that he was wearing a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads. Smart kid.   
  


The ambulance bay came open. They were carting a body. Amanda could sense that the person was dead. She didn't know how, but she could sense if a person was dead or alive. Maybe it had something to do with her mother's death at such an early age. Or maybe Amanda had an over active imagination.   
  


She recognized the two EMTs, Ryne and Marns. They had an IV hooked up to the corpse and were uselessly pumping air into him with a Namboo bag. She ran to them and asked, "What happened?"   
  


"Jon Doe, bystander called saying that he fell off of one of the high-rises that they're building in Korea town. He's in pretty rough shape," Ryne answered as she squeezed the bag. She went on, "We've already given him six units of lidocane and an amp of eppy."   
  


Amanda peered down at the corpse. She listened to his heart with the stethoscope. She stood up and shook her head. She said, "This one's a DOA. But I think the impact killed him."   
  


They looked at her and she smiled at them sadly. She said, "It wasn't your fault. But it was good to try to save the poor guy."   
  


"Thanks Dr. Wallace," Ryne said as she walked away with her partner.   
  


"Welcome," Amanda replied softly as she wheeled the body away. She pasted the reception desk to be stopped by one of the nurses.   
  


She asked, "Hey, Dr. Wallace, where are you going?"   
  


Amanda smiled and said, "I'm taking this body to the morgue"   
  


The nurse said, "Okay, less work for me." She shrugged and sat down, checking her charts. Most people didn't realize how hard the nurses worked, so Amanda tried not to give them a hard time. Besides, most of them had been doing this longer that she had been alive. Hell, she was just a first year residence, fresh faced out of med school, and pulling grunt work.   
  


Not really. Her supervisor sort of had a crush on her, so she got the best cases and less of the hassle. It made her a little angry, but as one of the nurses had told her, "Take what you can get, sweetie. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."   
  


Amanda sighed as she stepped into the elevator. She hit the basement button and was in the sub level within a few moments. She shivered as she pushed the gurny into the darkened, chilled hallway. The smell of formaldehyde tickled her nostrils.   
  


It didn't bother her one bit. She had worked as a PA during pre-med. That was the other reason she had became a doctor, the science of it. She was seriously debating on working in the ER two days of the week, and being a pathologist the other three.   
  


She opened the door to the steel room. It was empty and dark except for one light. She hit the light switch and dim light flooded the room. _They really need to change the bulbs_, she thought as she wheeled the body to a metal slab.   
  


Grunting, she managed to roll the body over to the slab. The pathologist wasn't here, and since Amanda knew him, she would start the very baiscs of the autopsy for him. Get the body ready, record date, etc. Dr. Smythe trusted her and still called her down on occasion when he had a strange case.   
  


She slipped on a pair of latex gloves and picked up the tape recorder. She checked the tape and hit record. She began her observations, "White male, approximately 6,1, 6,2. Approximately 170 to 200 pounds. Dark hair, pale complected. Slight case of anima perhaps present due to pale skin."   
  


She took a closer look at the body. Whoever he was had been handsome. Sculpted cheekbones, deep-set eyes, a nice mouth. Really handsome. "A waist," Amanda murmured as she tilted his head.   
  


He had a large gash running from his right cheek under his eye to his chin. "Himm," Amanda breathed as she looked at it. It had been inflicted, and not from the fall. As if the person had been in a fight before he fell.   
  


Amanda looked down at the body, knowing that the police had been notified and would try to find someone who could identify him. She studied him, wondering if he had a girlfriend. He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist and long legs. Good genetics.   
  


Amanda gasped as she noticed all of the gashes on his chest. His black shirt was soaked in blood. It lay in tatters on his blood stained, pale skin. She sighed and cut the shirt off of his body. He was well built.   
  


_And he's dead Wallace. The first guy that you feel physical attraction to is a corpse, _she thought bitterly as she placed the scraps of cloth into a bag. His chest was ripped to shreds. He had double stab wounds on his flat stomach, like he had been gouged. "What did this to you?" she thought angerily, thinkning that it wasn't the fall that killed this handsome young man, but what attacked him.   
  


She wanted vengence for someone who she had never met, who, in all reality, with those looks and that body, might be a total ass hole.   
  


"Damn it, Amanda Lynn, pull it together," she told herself, getting a strange feeling from the body.   
  


She sighed and went on, "Approximately 25 to 30 years of age. Severe lacerations on his upper body regions, and it's apparent that he's been gouged in the abdomen. Doctor thinks that foul play may be involved. I am going to remove the rest of the garments now."   
  


Her cheeks flushed. She had seen numerous men nude before and treated all of them, but for some reason, he was getting to her. This nameless corpse. So, she pulled off his combat boots and placed them in the bag.   
  


She looked back up and noticed a silver chain and pendent among the carnage. She studied it. Her good ole da had carted her to the British Isles every year so she wouldn't forget her Scottish heritage. She recognized the design on the tiny knife. It was Irish. She smiled sadly as she took the pendent off and studied it in the light. "An apparent love for Celtic things then," she said sadly, whishing she could have met the guy on the slab during life.   
  


She placed it into the bag as well for the police to look at. She went back to his pants, not knowing weather to cut them off or take them off. She'd never taken a man's clothes off before. It would be just her luck that the first person she felt physically attracted to was dead and that she was going to take his pants off.   
  


Her hands were trembling as she went to the zipper. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his face. She jerked up in surprise. "The hell," she softly cursed as she looked at the gash on his face. It was healing. She was watching it heal, and it was healing at an incredible rate.   
  


She looked down at the rest of the body. It was slowly mending as well.   
  


She jumped back in surprise.   
  


She crept towards the body and placed her hand on his neck. There was _NO PULSE._ "This shouldn't be happening," she stuttered, trembling. She swallowed. It was amazing. What the hell was going on?   
  


Then, his eyes opened, a dark, rich, incredible brown.   
  


****** 

The first thing that Angel was aware to was pain. His whole body was a solid, screaming ache. _At least I killed that bastard,_ he thought as he slowly regained consciousness.   
  


The demon had lost, but it hadn't gone home empty handed. It managed to gouge Angel, and severely slice him up. Then it pushed him off the high-rise. As Angel fell, he managed to chop of its head, and before he passed out with the pain, he saw it explode into a mass of bloody slime.   
  


Another messy demon death.   
  


As he awoke, he felt cold air on his tender, healing wounds. Then, he smelled formaldehyde and a woman's fear. He opened his eyes and sat up. Not slowly, bringing fresh waves of hot pain into his damaged organs. He didn't wench though.   
  


The woman opened her mouth to scream. Angel, acting on instinct, reached out, grabbed her, and placed his hand over her mouth. Huge dark green eyes looked at him from a delicate, pale face. The woman he was holding was very beautiful he realized dimly as he looked at her.   
  


Dark red curls were pulled back from her face, but still tumbled way past her slender shoulders. Her skin was paler than his with a few freckles on the bridge of her nose, almost invisible. Her eyes were frightened, but they also looked curious as well.   
  


He told her, "I'm going to take my hand off your mouth if you promise not to scream."   
  


She nodded and Angel let her go. She stepped back, watching him with a combination of fear, wonder, and curiosity. She asked, "What are you?"   
  


Angel stood up, gripping the table as he did. It hurt, but he thought he would be able to make it out of the hospital okay. Somehow, he had ended up in the morgue. _Great, _he thought ironically as the doctor watched him. She was tall, too. Well built, feminine but athletic.   
  


He told her, "Forget whatever you just saw. Dr . . ." He looked at the blue name tag on her lab coat. "Wallace, it would be for the best," he told her as he picked up the plastic bag that held his belongings.   
  


"Hell no," she said, her voice betraying a slight Scottish accent.   
  


_Great, a Scot and a doctor, _Angel thought, knowing that she was going to be as stubborn as hell. He tried to take a few steps, but she stopped him by placing her gloved hands on his chest.   
  


"No, I'm not letting you leave," she told him, her cheeks turing bright pink. Then she jumped back. Maybe she felt that he didn't have a pulse. She nervously added, "Uum, you're hurt, and I can help you."   
  


"I've got to go," he told her as he walked past her.   
  


"What are you?" she asked, her accent becoming even thicker.   
  


He looked at her and gave her a lopsided smile. He told her, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Then he walked out of the morgue.   
  


****** 

"You woke up in the _morgue_?" Cordelia asked in disbelief as she bandaged Angel's half-healed wounds. He didn't have the luxury of eating half a bottle of Motrin to keep his body from hurting.   
  


He nodded and said, "In front of a doctor and everything."   
  


"I bet you scared the crap out of her," Cordy chuckled as she faceted the bandages with medical tape.   
  


"Yeah, a little bit, but mainly she was wondering what I was," Angel told her, still seeing the image of the redhead in his mind.   
  


Cordy shrugged and said, "Did you kill the Horny Demon?"   
  


Angel chuckled and Cordelia asked, "Did I just say what I think I said?"   
  


Angel nodded and answered, "Yeah, you did, and yeah, it's dead."   
  


"Good, because the last thing we need is some nasty big demon with wings," she told him as she put away the First Aid kit. She walked to the fridge and pulled out a pint of blood. Awkwardly, Angel took it.   
  
  
  


The blood would help him heal faster, he knew, but he still wasn't the most comfortable drinking blood in front of Cordelia. She said, "Well, I don't think you'll see that doctor again."   
  


Angel nodded quietly as he opened the foil seal. He wished he hadn't scared the poor girl though. He knew Cordelia was right. He wasn't going to see the redhead again.   
  


The End! 

Or is it?   
  


Would you like a sequel, or perhaps a series, if so, e-mail me at slaybrat@aye.net or slayerbrat@yahoo.com.****   
  



End file.
